


I’m sorry for the ghost I made you be

by sarahcakes613



Series: The Cohen Files [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Epistolary, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Sandor writes letters to his dead wife because it's easier than accepting she's gone.





	I’m sorry for the ghost I made you be

_You were my ground, my safe and sound/You were my aerial_ \- The Treaty, Leonard Cohen

 

My wife,

I cannot bring myself to speak your name, even in writing. I try, and the pen grows heavy in my hand and it hurts to even lift it. The maester tells me that every period of mourning can be broken into stages. I have felt them all these past few months, all but the last. I refuse to accept this new reality. You are not gone, not really. Marya asks where you are, and I say you are away visiting family. It’s not a lie, is it? I pray now, which I am sure will amuse and please you. I pray you are with your mother and father, your brothers. I pray you are in a warmer place than this frozen North. I have given our chambers to the girls, they are more Southron than even you ever were, and the cold seeps into their bones and causes the aches of one older than they.

Your sister has suggested that I send Liora to foster with her. I know by rights I should call her your _lady_ sister, but I fear she would sense it and I will wake tomorrow with a hex on my person. It is not such a bad idea, though. The Vale is not yet in winter, and she would be surrounded by good strong women, she could learn to run a household. I am loathe to part her from the younger girls, however. They depend on her for guidance, and in so many ways so do I. I write to you now in the hopes that you will have some guidance for me. I can hear you as I write, as clear as if you were sitting with me having a conversation. You were always so fiercely adamant that they not be split up. The pack survives, you always said. And yet for all that they are dogs and wolves, they are also becoming women, and shouldn’t they be with other women who can prepare them for life? I can barely prepare them for an evening meal.

I have been writing to you so long my hand cramps, and I am no clearer in my confusion. At night I walk the walls and I think, the cold air clears my thoughts.

 

My lady,

I walked the walls last night and it felt like you were there walking with me. I felt you strongly I had to look down at the snow to make sure there was still only the one set of footprints. I have come to a decision about our eldest daughter. My decision is not to make the decision on her behalf. You always spoke so passionately about how decisions were made for you, and how helpless you felt in the Red Keep, even when you said it was your own choices that led you there. She is older now than you were then, and I feel I can trust that she will make the right choice for her future. If she chooses the Vale, I know your sister will keep her safe. It’s the rocky soil, she jests, that prevents any villainy from taking root.

I informed the girls of my non-decision at breakfast. Liora took it the way she takes everything – quietly and with a solemn face. I’m sure she is even now in the Godswood thinking it over. The other two girls were less quiet. Marya has said she will go too, in that tone of hers that brooks no argument. I must have had quite a look on my face, because suddenly Brynn was on my knee, both hands clasped over one of mine, promising that she would stay with her papa. What could I possibly say to that?

 

My dearest Sansa,

Today marks one year since you left me and the girls. I’m sorry, I should not word it like that – like you made a conscious decision to abandon your family. I received a raven from the Vale today, Liora is safely ensconced in the Eyrie. Marya did _not_ go with her, she remains here with Brynn and myself. She’s still so small, so without guile. She has not let learned the lessons I knew by her age, that the world is built by killers. If I have anything to say about it, she will be older than you were when we met before she is forced to face those ugly truths.

Today is the first I have written your name, the first I have used it at all. I have no one left to speak it to, no one here who knew you as Sansa. To everyone else here, you were the Lady Clegane, the Stark She-Wolf, Mother.

I still feel you everywhere, in every corner of this enormous bloody castle. It’s too big for just me and the girls, but with winter setting in, I know it will soon fill up. The castellan is in his element, he hums to himself often as he works out who will go where and what will be eaten when. He probably sleeps with his measuring ribbon tucked in beside him. Brynn came up with that one, she looked so proud of herself that I couldn’t admonish her. You always were the better parent for discipline. I’m still so afraid of causing them damage that I let them get away with too much. Marya is young enough still that if I’m not careful, I will spoil her soft without you here to temper my fears.

I’m sure you’re laughing at me now. The Hound, brought down by a child no bigger than the Qohori lemurs in her picture book. There’s some of your sister in that girl, I think. She talks about going on wild adventures to Sothoryos and Yi-Ti, to see the animals of her bestiary in person. Perhaps she’ll grow up to be an animal-maester.

I miss you, Sansa. I miss you so much it hurts me deep in my bones. I still don’t understand why the fever took you and not me, or our children, but I think I’m finally coming close to that last stage of mourning, the acceptance. I hope that you can forgive me this, that my acceptance of your passing does not lead you to think I love you no more. I will always love you, my darling girl.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N about names: Marya was Sansa's combination of Minisa and Arya. Brynn was Sandor's idea, a way of honouring Brienne. Liora is a Hebrew name that means "I have a light". I like that it sounds like Lyarra, and I like that Sansa would choose a name that brings a flameless light to Sandor's life.


End file.
